It’s the evening of my sixtieth day here in Toronto. Two phases of my goal has been a success so far. I’ve fallen into a routine. Sort of. Every morning I wake up at 7am. First thing I do is have a shower and get dressed. Then I have breakfast, which consists of two pieces of toast, four pieces of Canadian turkey bacon and a fried egg, with a cup of water or hot tea. After that, I brush my teeth, and scrub my face without wasting a lot of time. After I’m done with that lovely routine, I’d either go downstairs to the amenities area or just stay in my apartment and get started on my daily tasks. I know what you’re asking, why do I restrain myself to a semi-rigid routine? Because living to a schedule or routine grounds me and yet it’s not necessarily true. I would certainly go off my routine or schedule at times when called for. After my visit to the Canadian National Exhibition with my roommate and her friend, I started to be a little looser or less rigid, depending what phrase you want to use, and just go with what happens to pop up. So long as it didn’t severely interfere with anything scheduled that was the utmost importance. When it’s something that’s more interesting than what was planned, then by all means – yes. When it’s less interesting, then… nope.
For those of you wondering what exactly did I go to, well… it was nothing special really. What it was just a Canadian version of a Coney Island-type amusement park, an annual event that takes place at Exhibition Place during the 18 days leading up to and including Canadian Labour Day. It’s 192-acre complex of soccer, hockey & equestrian events, concerts & festivals, plus dining options. My roommate, her friend and I decided to make our way there and have a fun time. We hoped aboard the 511 streetcar to the last stop – Exhibition Station. When we got there, it was a sight to behold. Not the most amazing sight to behold, but a sight nonetheless. I could go on for two hours in that place before my interest and energy runs out. We did everything and went everywhere we could. The event itself was what it was interesting. The area was not as huge and as vibrant as say Coney Island, and the rides were what you would expect for an amusement park. The food we had was… was… it was the kind of food you’d eat at these kinds of places and never eat again. That’s for sure. Then comes the worst food of the night – the mini donuts. God! I pretty much ate one of them, and it was… horrible. I swear it was as though I was eating a processed, factory-made pancake that was deep-fried for about an hour, so I regurgitated it in a trash bin. I look forward to getting back to the apartment to rinse every part of my mouth with acid. I’m certainly not nostalgic for that taste. How could a donut taste that fucked up? I’ve had shitty food before, but this one took the cake. How the hell did I get lured or convinced to consume this piece of shit. The taste will pester me so long as it stays in my mouth.
Eventually, it got late, and we all got tired. So went back home. When I got to my apartment, I packed away my camera bag and lay on my bed among the stuff I possessed in my room and other stuff. I have very less stuff than I would have back home, only the real necessities are present, especially a bed and a blanket. Basically, I’m not exactly sleeping in, what I’d proudly call, my room every night. Though I try every night to accept it as my room. Speaking of sleep… Good night.